Ficapalooza: Fic 5
Written for one of angelfireeast's requests. This story is rated 'M', and was beta'd by chicklet73.
An angelfireeastThing
“Don’t walk away from me!” Peter’s voice followed her down the hall, the taunting note clear even through the echo.
Rose ignored him, slamming the bedroom door behind her. The flat was too small to properly hide, but so far the unwritten code of not bursting through closed doors had served them well during their disagreements.
Not today, however. The door flew open to reveal Peter-his skin pale, his eyes dark. He was furious-as opposed to simply angry, as he had been when the disagreement had started in the living room.
“I told you not to walk away from me, Rose,” he growled, stalking into the room.
Rose stood her ground, glaring at him, trying desperately to keep from saying anything she’d regret and eventually failing. “You don’t get to order me around, Peter, simply because you’re staying here.”
“You don’t get to act like a two year old, Rose, simply because we’re dating!”
“Dating?” she taunted. “Is that what we’re doing these days?”
“If you’re going to act like a juvenile, then it deserves a juvenile name,” he said, his voice low as he stopped in front of her.
“I act as you treat me,” she spat back. If he’d not been so patronising when the conversation had started, she’d have been infinitely more willing to listen to him.
“I treat you like a juvenile?” His voice was laced with irony. “Is that what you think?”
Rose jutted her chin out. “Yes.”
Peter stepped toward her, closing the distance between them. He leaned forward suddenly, his hands catching her shoulders and pulling her to him for a breath-stealing kiss.
He released her suddenly, asking, “Like that? Is that juvenile, Rose?”
“No!” She took a breath to speak, only to have Peter pull her to him, his lips crashing against hers once more. He took another step, moving so his entire body was flush against hers; she could feel the press of his penis against her, and felt heat flash through her.
“Is that juvenile? D’you think I’d do that with someone I think of as a child?” He growled the question, the final word filled with disdain. His hands were now at her waist, his fingers pressing into the flesh there.
“No,” she whispered, her energy shifting from anger towards arousal. She focused, remembering their argument. “But you treat me like one outside of the bedroom!”
Peter crushed his mouth against hers, his tongue forcing its way past her lips. Her hand drifted to his hips, resting there as she debated if the pleasure of the feeling outweighed her desire to continue having a row with Peter.
Peter’s hands drifted over her waist, finding the zip for her skirt; as he continued to kiss her, his lips merciless, his hands worked to remove the garment.
“You’re no child, Rose. And I don’t treat you as such.” The words were said against her mouth as his clever hands moved to her blouse, working to undo the buttons.
“You do,” she replied breathlessly, uncertain if she meant them now, or if she was trying to goad Peter on, to see how far he would go if truly angered.
He jerked the blouse down her arms; a button at the cuff popped off, plinking softly when it landed across the room. Peter didn’t seem to hear it, instead tossed the blouse to the side before returning his attention to demonstrating to Rose just how little he thought of her as a child.
Rose hurriedly unbuttoned his trousers, yanking the fly down, sliding the fabric over his hips and down his legs. She cupped him, squeezing lightly against the evidence of his arousal, and Peter pulled back with a gasp.
“If I thought of you as a child, Rose, I’d not be here. With you.” He kicked his trousers aside, and nearly ripped his pants as he jerked the cotton down. “Wouldn’t want to be in you, wouldn’t want to make you scream my name.” His clever hands had returned to her clothing, working the slip upwards so he could reach her knickers. “I’d not be thinking of how many different ways I could drive into you, could make you come.”
Rose felt her womb tighten, her clit twinge at the words. She’d never seen him so angry, not when he was about to make love to her.
She reached down, shoving her knickers along her legs, kicking them aside.
“Show me,” she whispered, meeting his gaze briefly. She leaned into him, sucking his bottom lip, her tongue teasing the soft flesh.
“Get on the bed.” His voice was still low, still guttural; she thought perhaps she might like this side of Peter.
Perhaps.
“I thought I wasn’t a child, to be directed,” she shot back, knowing it would infuriate him, but curious as to what he would do.
“Get on the bed, Rose,” he hissed, grabbing her arm and propelling her to their bed. She turned to sit; he kept her facing forward, forcing her to crawl onto the bed. “Just like that.”
He’d been clever-he was standing next to the bedside table, and took only a few seconds to find a condom, to put one on. She felt the bed dip under his weight, and was very aware of Peter kneeling behind her.
“You’re no child.” He guided his erection forward, dragging it through the wetness between her legs, before positioning it at her opening. “If you were, Rose, I’d not do this.” He pushed forward, sliding into her, his hips coming to rest against her bum.
“God,” Rose groaned, the sensation a new one for her where Peter was concerned.
He pulled back, then drove forward again, his body leaning forward over hers. “You’re a woman, Rose.” He repeated the motion, adding, “you’re no child.” He braced his weight on his left hand, his right wrapping around her and sliding under her slip to cup her breast. He began to rock into her, his fingers pinching and rolling and teasing her breast in time to the rhythm. Rose arched her back, trying to pull him deeper, to change the angle and the feeling of him in her.
“God, yes,” Rose gasped as Peter thrust forward sharply, his hands moving to hold her in place against him.
“You like that?” He growled, leaning forward to nip at her shoulder.
“Yes.”
He repeated the motion, over and over, the pauses in between growing shorter.
“Touch yourself, Rose.” Peter had leaned forward, his hand now resting on her shoulder as he continued to drive into her.
She blushed only briefly; she shifted her weight to rest on her left hand, moving her right to begin to stroke herself. She slid her fingers back, finding where Peter was sliding into her; he gasped, and increased his pace.
“Please, Rose,” he whispered.
“Yes, Peter,” she hissed, feeling her body pulse around his, clenching his erection as he drove into her, her orgasm spurring him on to his. He buried himself fully in her, rotating his hips; she squeaked, a fresh orgasm washing through her as he came.
She returned to bracing her weight on both hands, catching her breath as she slowly came down from the heights. Peter was still deep within her; she could hear him gasping for breath as well, his fingers pressing almost painfully into her hips.
She finally broke the silence. “Peter?”
He leaned forward, placing an achingly gentle kiss against her shoulder. “Mmm?”
“Ah..could we...I mean, my knees...”
She felt him slide out of her, and she collapsed gratefully onto the mattress. She felt Peter get off of the mattress, and slowly rolled onto her back. She was exhausted.
Peter rejoined her in bed, rolling onto his side and pillowing his head on her shoulder. She turned, kissing his forehead, before laying back once more with a sigh.
“I’m not a child,” she said, softly.
“No, you’re not.” His hand was resting on her stomach, his thumb rubbing lightly across the silk of her slip. “I’m sorry for treating you as one.”
“Before our shag, you mean?” She couldn’t resist grinning, and felt her tongue curl at the corner of her lips.
“Oh yes.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
“All forgiven, then?”
“All forgiven.” He leaned up into her for a gentle kiss, whispering, “Done, and sealed with a kiss.”
An angelfireeastThing
“Don’t walk away from me!” Peter’s voice followed her down the hall, the taunting note clear even through the echo.
Rose ignored him, slamming the bedroom door behind her. The flat was too small to properly hide, but so far the unwritten code of not bursting through closed doors had served them well during their disagreements.
Not today, however. The door flew open to reveal Peter-his skin pale, his eyes dark. He was furious-as opposed to simply angry, as he had been when the disagreement had started in the living room.
“I told you not to walk away from me, Rose,” he growled, stalking into the room.
Rose stood her ground, glaring at him, trying desperately to keep from saying anything she’d regret and eventually failing. “You don’t get to order me around, Peter, simply because you’re staying here.”
“You don’t get to act like a two year old, Rose, simply because we’re dating!”
“Dating?” she taunted. “Is that what we’re doing these days?”
“If you’re going to act like a juvenile, then it deserves a juvenile name,” he said, his voice low as he stopped in front of her.
“I act as you treat me,” she spat back. If he’d not been so patronising when the conversation had started, she’d have been infinitely more willing to listen to him.
“I treat you like a juvenile?” His voice was laced with irony. “Is that what you think?”
Rose jutted her chin out. “Yes.”
Peter stepped toward her, closing the distance between them. He leaned forward suddenly, his hands catching her shoulders and pulling her to him for a breath-stealing kiss.
He released her suddenly, asking, “Like that? Is that juvenile, Rose?”
“No!” She took a breath to speak, only to have Peter pull her to him, his lips crashing against hers once more. He took another step, moving so his entire body was flush against hers; she could feel the press of his penis against her, and felt heat flash through her.
“Is that juvenile? D’you think I’d do that with someone I think of as a child?” He growled the question, the final word filled with disdain. His hands were now at her waist, his fingers pressing into the flesh there.
“No,” she whispered, her energy shifting from anger towards arousal. She focused, remembering their argument. “But you treat me like one outside of the bedroom!”
Peter crushed his mouth against hers, his tongue forcing its way past her lips. Her hand drifted to his hips, resting there as she debated if the pleasure of the feeling outweighed her desire to continue having a row with Peter.
Peter’s hands drifted over her waist, finding the zip for her skirt; as he continued to kiss her, his lips merciless, his hands worked to remove the garment.
“You’re no child, Rose. And I don’t treat you as such.” The words were said against her mouth as his clever hands moved to her blouse, working to undo the buttons.
“You do,” she replied breathlessly, uncertain if she meant them now, or if she was trying to goad Peter on, to see how far he would go if truly angered.
He jerked the blouse down her arms; a button at the cuff popped off, plinking softly when it landed across the room. Peter didn’t seem to hear it, instead tossed the blouse to the side before returning his attention to demonstrating to Rose just how little he thought of her as a child.
Rose hurriedly unbuttoned his trousers, yanking the fly down, sliding the fabric over his hips and down his legs. She cupped him, squeezing lightly against the evidence of his arousal, and Peter pulled back with a gasp.
“If I thought of you as a child, Rose, I’d not be here. With you.” He kicked his trousers aside, and nearly ripped his pants as he jerked the cotton down. “Wouldn’t want to be in you, wouldn’t want to make you scream my name.” His clever hands had returned to her clothing, working the slip upwards so he could reach her knickers. “I’d not be thinking of how many different ways I could drive into you, could make you come.”
Rose felt her womb tighten, her clit twinge at the words. She’d never seen him so angry, not when he was about to make love to her.
She reached down, shoving her knickers along her legs, kicking them aside.
“Show me,” she whispered, meeting his gaze briefly. She leaned into him, sucking his bottom lip, her tongue teasing the soft flesh.
“Get on the bed.” His voice was still low, still guttural; she thought perhaps she might like this side of Peter.
Perhaps.
“I thought I wasn’t a child, to be directed,” she shot back, knowing it would infuriate him, but curious as to what he would do.
“Get on the bed, Rose,” he hissed, grabbing her arm and propelling her to their bed. She turned to sit; he kept her facing forward, forcing her to crawl onto the bed. “Just like that.”
He’d been clever-he was standing next to the bedside table, and took only a few seconds to find a condom, to put one on. She felt the bed dip under his weight, and was very aware of Peter kneeling behind her.
“You’re no child.” He guided his erection forward, dragging it through the wetness between her legs, before positioning it at her opening. “If you were, Rose, I’d not do this.” He pushed forward, sliding into her, his hips coming to rest against her bum.
“God,” Rose groaned, the sensation a new one for her where Peter was concerned.
He pulled back, then drove forward again, his body leaning forward over hers. “You’re a woman, Rose.” He repeated the motion, adding, “you’re no child.” He braced his weight on his left hand, his right wrapping around her and sliding under her slip to cup her breast. He began to rock into her, his fingers pinching and rolling and teasing her breast in time to the rhythm. Rose arched her back, trying to pull him deeper, to change the angle and the feeling of him in her.
“God, yes,” Rose gasped as Peter thrust forward sharply, his hands moving to hold her in place against him.
“You like that?” He growled, leaning forward to nip at her shoulder.
“Yes.”
He repeated the motion, over and over, the pauses in between growing shorter.
“Touch yourself, Rose.” Peter had leaned forward, his hand now resting on her shoulder as he continued to drive into her.
She blushed only briefly; she shifted her weight to rest on her left hand, moving her right to begin to stroke herself. She slid her fingers back, finding where Peter was sliding into her; he gasped, and increased his pace.
“Please, Rose,” he whispered.
“Yes, Peter,” she hissed, feeling her body pulse around his, clenching his erection as he drove into her, her orgasm spurring him on to his. He buried himself fully in her, rotating his hips; she squeaked, a fresh orgasm washing through her as he came.
She returned to bracing her weight on both hands, catching her breath as she slowly came down from the heights. Peter was still deep within her; she could hear him gasping for breath as well, his fingers pressing almost painfully into her hips.
She finally broke the silence. “Peter?”
He leaned forward, placing an achingly gentle kiss against her shoulder. “Mmm?”
“Ah..could we...I mean, my knees...”
She felt him slide out of her, and she collapsed gratefully onto the mattress. She felt Peter get off of the mattress, and slowly rolled onto her back. She was exhausted.
Peter rejoined her in bed, rolling onto his side and pillowing his head on her shoulder. She turned, kissing his forehead, before laying back once more with a sigh.
“I’m not a child,” she said, softly.
“No, you’re not.” His hand was resting on her stomach, his thumb rubbing lightly across the silk of her slip. “I’m sorry for treating you as one.”
“Before our shag, you mean?” She couldn’t resist grinning, and felt her tongue curl at the corner of her lips.
“Oh yes.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
“All forgiven, then?”
“All forgiven.” He leaned up into her for a gentle kiss, whispering, “Done, and sealed with a kiss.”